Solace
by chelsie fan
Summary: Post-Series 3: Lady Mary grieves for Mr. Matthew; Mr. Carson grieves for Lady Mary; and Mrs. Hughes grieves for Mr. Carson. Mrs. Hughes comforts Mr. Carson, and the two finally express their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N ****I originally posted this as a one-shot, but one of my reviewers (thank you, Mona Love!) thought that I might be able to get some more life out of it. I think she may be right. I'll give it a try, any way. Also, I saw a recently released Series 4 picture of Carson comforting Lady Mary, and (along with Mona Love's kind words) it inspired me to revisit this. I've redone Chapter 1 slightly (if you read it the first time I posted it, you might want to read the updated version) and posted Chapter 2.**

**I thought it might be a good idea to take a short break from my other story, "Small Advances." The reviews have dwindled, so I'm not sure people are liking it any more. I will finish it, because it goes against my nature to leave anything unfinished, but I'll have to return to it in a bit when I think I can do it justice again. It might be good to "switch gears," so to speak.**

**In the meantime, please let me know what you think of this. A huge part of my enjoyment in writing comes from finding out that someone out there is enjoying reading it, too. So write me a review, please, even if you hate it! That's ok. Then at least I'll know.**

**Oh, the disclaimer! Of course I don't own any of it or them.**

Chapter 1

"Are you all right, Mr. Carson?" she asked when she found him sitting in the armchair in his pantry, gazing vacantly at the floor. He didn't even rise and offer her a seat, as he normally would have done. She moved to stand in front of his chair.

"How will she ever manage? How can she possibly carry on?" Charles wondered aloud, still looking down.

"If there's one thing I do admire about your Lady Mary, it's her fortitude. Life has dealt her some difficult blows," Mrs. Hughes reminded him, "but she's endured and overcome them all. No matter what else I may think about her, she's a strong young woman."

"But this is different. This was the man she loved. To lose the one person you love so much, someone who is your whole world, your very life - " he trailed off and looked up at her helplessly. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't. He was talking about Lady Mary, but was thinking of _her_, of the paralyzing fear he felt when he thought she might be ill, when he thought he might lose her. He knew exactly what Lady Mary must be feeling; he had nearly faced the same agony himself.

"It will be painful," Mrs. Hughes agreed, laying a hand on his shoulder. "_Very_ painful. To live without the love of the person you hold most dear is almost unbearable. Almost. But she _can_ bear it, and she will, because she _must_. She's got a family who love her. Her parents and grandmother will look after her. Mr. Branson will certainly share her sorrow. I daresay even Lady Edith will be uncharacteristically sympathetic in this situation. Anna will be devoted as ever. And if that isn't enough for Lady Mary, she's got _you_. I do believe that that girl would have a much more difficult time with a great many things if she didn't have her most loyal protector and staunchest supporter. If anyone can ease her burden, I know _you _can. She knows there's nothing you wouldn't do for her."

She raised her hand to his cheek. At this, Charles broke. Her touch was too much for him. He began weeping bitterly - great, heaving, visceral sobs. Mrs. Hughes hesitated, seemingly unsure what to do. Before she could respond, he grasped both her hands and carefully pulled her down into his lap. Still sobbing violently, he arranged her so that she was sitting sideways across his knees, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her shoulder. Her own tears now falling, she looped both arms around his neck and drew his head even closer, cradling him to her bosom as a mother would comfort a child, caressing the back of his neck and his hair. He moved his arms up around her shoulders and clung more tightly to her. She gently kissed the top of his head and rested her cheek there.

Oddly enough, he wasn't embarrassed - not with Mrs. Hughes. He would never allow himself to be so vulnerable with anyone else, but with her, it was different. He needed to hold her, and he needed her to hold him. He wouldn't normally be so bold, but tonight, he desperately needed the physical comfort he otherwise would never allow himself. Only she could unburden him, with a simple word, a mere look, a light touch.

They remained thus, crying, holding onto each other fiercely, bodies and hearts intertwined, for a very long time. When both had calmed somewhat, they pulled their heads apart just enough to look at each other. Charles slid his arms back down around her waist, settling his hands on her hip, and Mrs. Hughes rested her hands together on his shoulder, her arms draped loosely about his neck. He managed to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket with one hand while still holding her with the other. After tenderly drying her tears, tears shed not for Mr. Matthew, not for Lady Mary, but for _him_, he wiped his own eyes. He returned the handkerchief to his pocket and resumed his hold on her. Somehow, the knowledge that she was crying for him made him feel both better and worse.

When he had composed himself enough to speak, he sighed heavily and smiled at her meekly. "Thank you for that, Mrs. Hughes. You'll never know how much it means to me."

"Oh," Mrs. Hughes dismissed his gratitude. "It was nothing, Mr. Carson. I just hope I've been able to help. But if you're feeling a little better now, perhaps you should let me up. I'm perfectly comfortable, but I'm afraid your knees will not thank you later."

He realized then that he was still holding her firmly and became a bit flustered. "Oh! Yes, of course. I'm so sorry," he apologized as he recovered himself and released his grip on her. He would gladly have held her all night, aching knees or not, but he knew he couldn't.

"It's quite all right. I don't mind," she assured him as they both stood up.

After studying her for a moment, Charles lifted his hand to her face and brushed her cheek with his thumb. He looked earnestly into her eyes as he told her, "You've been a great comfort to me tonight, Mrs. Hughes. I do believe that _I_ would have a much more difficult time without _my_ staunchest supporter. I don't know if I can ease her burden, but you've certainly lightened mine. I'm very grateful. It's true I would do anything for her ... but I would do the same for _you_. Anything. I hope you know that."

"I do, Mr. Carson, but thank you for saying it," she said. "And I hope you know the reverse is also true."

"You've shown me time and again," he replied sincerely. "How could I possibly think otherwise?"

He leaned closer and reverently kissed her forehead. She placed her hands on his chest and laid her head between them. He circled his arms around her shoulders, pulled her closer, and nestled his chin atop her head.

Charles was content to remain in this position, not speaking, just holding her and being held, but eventually, they had to separate, and it was Mrs. Hughes who spoke first.

"I'll say goodnight now, but before I go, do one thing for me, Mr. Carson, please," she requested.

"Anything, Mrs. Hughes," he echoed his earlier sentiments.

"The coming days will be very trying, with the family back from Scotland, and Lady Mary coming home from the hospital, and then, of course, the funeral - the luncheon and all the guests. I would like to relieve some of your sorrow, if I can, or at least share it with you. Promise me, when it all gets to be too much for you, you'll come to me. I'll be waiting," she said.

"And where else would I go?" he asked, smiling weakly.

She smiled back affectionately and kissed his cheek before leaving.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N So here's Chapter 2. Please let me know if you like it, so I can decide whether to continue.**

Chapter 2

The next night, she found him sitting on a bench in the courtyard. She walked up to stand behind him and gently laid her hands on his shoulders. He sighed, closed his eyes, and relaxed his posture.

"You said you would come to me," Elsie reminded him.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Carson apologized. "I needed some air, and I knew you would find me here."

"And so I have," she replied.

"So you have," he echoed.

Emboldened by the new familiarity they had shared the previous evening, Elsie began to move her hands back and forth slowly over his shoulders and neck. His muscles released their tension under her touch. After a time, Mr. Carson reached up and stilled her hands, and she feared momentarily that he might reject her attentions. But he only pulled her hands to his mouth, kissed them, clasped them between his own, held them to his chest, and rested his chin on them. She was now standing against his back with her arms around his neck. The warmth was foreign, but welcome.

Elsie broke the silence, asking quietly, "Would you like to talk about it?"

Mr. Carson let out a deep sigh and began, "I've never seen her like this. I've never seen _anyone_ like this. This afternoon, when she came home from the hospital, she didn't speak to anyone. She didn't even look at anyone. Once she was all sorted in her room, I found excuses to loiter about in the corridor. People came and went - the family and Anna - and I was hoping to catch a glimpse into her room or to hear her voice, or even to hear sobbing. But I saw nothing, heard nothing. Every time I asked after her, Anna just shook her head. You were right when you said Lady Mary is a strong young woman, but I fear this may be too much for her. And she's not at all receptive to anyone's offers of consolation. She needs to rely on the support of the people who love her. Why won't she let anyone help?"

"She's still in shock," Elsie reasoned. "Give her time. The grieving hasn't even started yet. Once the magnitude of the situation sinks in, she'll not only allow others to comfort her, but she'll seek out that consolation - from her family, from Anna, _and from you_. She'll come to you when she's ready. I'm sure of it."

"Are you? Truly?" he asked hopefully, releasing her hands and turning around to look at her.

"I am," she assured him. "Lady Mary will not face this alone, and neither will you."

Elsie understood Mr. Carson's need to comfort Lady Mary. It was the same overpowering need _she_ felt to comfort _him_. She understood also his fear that Lady Mary might not allow him to provide that comfort. She felt the same fear that that _he_ might rebuff _her_ efforts, although, at the moment, he seemed amenable to her attempts. She reached out to stroke his cheek and felt hot tears there. She caressed his face softly, running her fingers over his forehead, chin, and cheeks. He closed his eyes and accepted the relief she was offering, received her compassionate ministrations. Then she took each of his hands in turn and massaged it, drawing delicate patterns on the back and palm. Soon, he calmed, and she retrieved her handkerchief from her dress pocket. She lovingly dried the tears from his eyes and cheeks, replacing the handkerchief when she had finished.

While it broke Elsie's heart to see Mr. Carson so distraught, it also thrilled her that he was permitting her to attend to him in such a manner. He was in torment; she needed to console him, and she felt privileged that he was allowing her to do so.

Now he stood to face her, managing a rueful smile and remarking, "This is becoming a regular routine, isn't it? You find me in despair; I blubber all over you and fall to pieces; you put me back together; and by the time you're done with me I feel like I can face the world again."

"Any routine that causes you to feel better in the end is a good one, in my mind. I'm only too glad to be of service, if I can. As much as it hurts you to see Lady Mary in pain, it pains me just as much to see you hurting, and I would do anything to take away that hurt," she said with a catch in her voice.

"I know you would, and you already have done," he told her. "I couldn't endure this without your support."

"You shall always have it," she assured him.

"And you, mine," he returned.

Mr. Carson moved closer and placed his hands on the back of her head and her neck. He leaned his face in, rested his forehead against hers for a moment, and kissed her cheek. Then he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into a warm embrace. Elsie wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against him. When finally he released her, he offered his arm, which she grasped eagerly, and escorted her back to the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Well, I managed to squeak out another chapter. I'm not sure whether to end it here or try to continue. I don't know if I _can_ continue; I'm out of ideas at the moment, but maybe at some point, fresh inspiration will strike. I'd love to know what you think, so please leave a review with any comments (whether you like it or hate it), suggestions, ideas, advice ... anything. Thanks for reading and for all the reviews so far.**

**Also, for anyone who's following "Small Advances," look for another chapter later today. And if you're not, please check it out and tell me what you think! Thanks!**

Chapter 3

Charles was able to muddle through the days preceding the funeral only because of Mrs. Hughes's unwavering support. Every time he thought he couldn't go on, she graced him with a look, a touch, a word, a smile that reminded him that life was still worth living. He was able to endure the funeral itself only because Mrs. Hughes was right beside him, holding his hand – and his heart.

After the funeral, Lady Mary did indeed seek him out, just as Mrs. Hughes had predicted she would. She said only, "Oh, Carson!" and collapsed onto his chest, sobbing with such intensity that he could barely contain his own emotion. He didn't speak. He couldn't. He simply held her, patting and rubbing her back gently. At the same time his heart was breaking for her, he derived a certain satisfaction from being able to comfort her and tremendous gratification at being the one person she turned to in her time of need.

He managed to plod through the rest of that day, though how he did so, he couldn't say. Later that evening, after the others had all retired, he went to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. He entered without knocking, without speaking. She was standing at her desk sorting some papers. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, clasping his hands at her stomach. He rested his chin on her shoulder and his cheek against hers.

As soon as he had her firmly in his embrace, sobs began to wrack his body. She turned in his arms and began to caress his face, to stroke his hair, to place soothing kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his chin. She didn't say anything. He didn't want her to. He just needed to feel her touch. Charles had never thought that he would crave the corporal intimacy he had long ago forsaken, but he had been wrong. No one had held him or touched him like this since he was a boy, and he had forgotten how good it felt. Soon, her calming attentions had the desired effect, and he found himself able to speak – needing to speak.

"Elsie … " he began, using her Christian name. "You probably think me ridiculous for going to pieces like this, but it's not what you might think. Yes, I'm heartbroken for Lady Mary. I can only imagine what she's going through, losing the love of her life. But I thank God that I can only _imagine_ it, because there was a time I feared I might have had to endure it myself." He paused before continuing, "You see, _I knew_. When you thought you might have been ill … _I knew_. I know you think I'm oblivious to many things, and I may be, but never when it comes to you. I notice everything about you. You could never have kept it from me. Why did you even try?"

His tears began afresh, and so did hers.

"Oh, Charles! I didn't tell you because I wanted to spare you the grief that I had gone through. During the war, when you had your attack and collapsed, and then again, when you suffered from the Spanish Flu … It was the worst fear I have ever felt. I couldn't eat or sleep or think or even breathe properly until you were well again. The thought that I might have lost you …" Elsie trailed off, weeping, before continuing. "So then, when I thought _I_ might have been dying … Well, I was by no means certain that your feelings for me ran as deep as mine for you, but I hoped that they might. And if you did return even the smallest part of my love for you, then you would suffer as I did. I wanted to spare you that pain – at least until I found out whether I really was ill. I didn't want you to face the same torment. As it turned out, I was perfectly well, and you needed not have borne the anguish."

"But I _did_ bear it, Elsie!" he told her. "I bore it loving you so much it hurt and yet thinking you didn't care for me enough even to tell me. I bore it having no proper place and no right to share your sorrow but every desire to do so. You've supported me, always, and I wanted to comfort you the same way. I wanted to hold you, to dry your tears. You've been my solace, and I wanted to be yours."

"I'm so sorry, Charles! I never intended to hurt you. I just didn't want to burden you. I hoped that all would be well and that you would never need know. You must believe that I tried to keep it from you because I _do_ love you!" she cried.

They both stood there, breathing heavily, shoulders heaving, after such an emotional exchange. When the tears subsided and they both resumed more normal breathing, Charles sighed wearily and spoke.

"That was hardly the way I had intended to declare my love for you, but there it is," he said plainly.

"It wasn't quite what I had imagined, either," she remarked.

"Shall we try it again, then?" he asked.

"Perhaps we should," she agreed.

Charles stood looking into her eyes and reached up to brush his fingers over her face. He traced her eyebrows, her nose, her cheekbone, her jawbone, her lips. Elsie ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

"Let me love you, Elsie," he said quietly, his face so close it was nearly touching hers. "Properly, I mean. I want to share your joy _and_ suffer your pain. Will you let me? Please?"

She didn't answer with words. Smiling through her tears, she placed a slow, soft kiss to his lips. Charles returned her smile and kissed her back just as tenderly.


End file.
